


Badass

by faemouse



Category: White Collar
Genre: BDSM, First Time, Multi, OT3, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-13
Updated: 2011-05-13
Packaged: 2017-10-19 09:11:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faemouse/pseuds/faemouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about Peter is that he's just so goddamn adoreable</p>
            </blockquote>





	Badass

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this as a reply to a prompt requesting badass!Peter for the first wave over on Collar Kink. Then it sat on my hard drive for almost a year. Fail. So, here it is, finally completed and only self-betaed. Also? I hate the title, so any suggestions along with the concrit would be greatly appreciated.

The thing about Peter is that he’s just so goddamn adorable. With the little boy smile and the dimples and the wholesome, corn-fed farm boy morals, it is absolutely impossible to not love him just a little bit. Granted, those wholesome morals can be a real pain in the ass when he’s got you in handcuffs and is going to throw you in jail, but even then you can’t hate him too much, because those eyes of his are open books and you can read his face like the words _‘for your own good’_ and _‘this hurts me more than it hurts you’_ and _‘learning experience’_ are tattooed on his forehead. It’s kind of cute. It’s all sorts of obnoxious, and obviously Elizabeth finds it sexy, but no matter how adorable he is, that’s never really been your thing. You like your partners, men or women, to be sly. Intelligent. A little bit dangerous and a lot a bit alpha, and Peter just doesn’t fit the bill. Yes, he’s brilliant and certainly capable of playing loose with the rules, but in his heart of hearts he’s a big softy with his heart on his sleeve and a crap poker face.

None of which explains what you’re witnessing right now.

You don’t really understand what set him off. Ruiz was just being his usual prick self, and since his usual prick self is inelegant and tedious, you just ignored him, adjusted your shoulder sling, and continued to hunt and peck your way through the reports Peter insists are part and parcel of working for the FBI. The next thing you knew, Peter was right up in Ruiz’s face, pointing out that _“That convict took a bullet he did not have to take to save a life he did not have to save, and is still sitting at his desk working on reports he does not technically have to fill out. Why aren’t you doing the same?”  
_  
It’s bizarre, because you’ve seen Peter angry and you’ve see him frustrated and injured and cranky and even turned on, but you’ve never seen him with quite this brand of fire in eyes before. All of the other agents are looking between Ruiz and Peter and you while simultaneously trying not to look like they’re looking, Ruiz’s got both hands out in classic ‘surrender’ pose, and all you can really notice is the way Peter’s holster accentuates how broad his shoulders are.

Evidently, in addition to being adorable, Peter is also kind of a badass.

Huh.

~*~*~*~

“And now no one will talk to you?”

“Well, Jones and Cruz will because they’re on Peter’s team, and I think Jones at least likes me a little bit. And Hughes, obviously, but everyone else is either excessively cordial or just pretends I don’t exist.”

“Poor baby.”

“You mock my troubles.”

“Only because they aren’t what’re actually troubling you.”

“Come again?”

“Neal, honey, I understand what you’re going through.”

“I’m still not following.”

“He’s just so unbearably adorable that you never see it coming. It’s all shy smiles and opening doors for you and sitting through two-hour long Indigo Girls concerts, and then one day he gets into a bar fight with three other men because one of ‘em pinched your ass and he wins and _doesn’t break a sweat._ ”

“Um.”

“So I get that whenever you see him right now, you just want to slide to your knees, but keep in mind it might be best not to do so at the office.”

“Elizabeth! No.”

“I’m okay with it.”

“There’s nothing to be okay with.”

“So you don’t want to fuck my husband?”

“ _Christ_! I’m pretty sure ‘your husband’ are the operative words.”

“Exactly. In that he’s my husband and I can do what I like with him.”

“That sounds incredibly kinky.”

“If you think that’s kinky, you’ve got another think coming. Hopefully it’ll be with Peter. I’d love to see that particular confrontation.”

“I cannot believe I’m having this conversation.”

“Don’t think too much about it.”

“I need to get back to the office.”

“Don’t worry about that, either. He’s just doing the alpha male touch-what’s-mine-and-I’ll-kill-you thing. He did it to me, too. Give him a few  
weeks to realize other people aren’t a threat and he’ll tone it down.”

“Oh my god.”

“For the time being, though, you should resign your social circle to Peter, myself, June, and Mr. Havisham.”

“It’s been a lovely afternoon, Elizabeth, but I really need to leave.”

“Give Peter a kiss from me, won’t you?”

~*~*~*~*~

You walk back into the office to find Peter at his desk. He’s taken his coat off but still has the holster on, and he’s rolled the cuffs of his sleeves up to the elbow so you can see the fine, strong musculature of his forearms. A pair of reading glasses are perched on his nose and he’s absently rolling a ball-point pen across his lips as he looks through the files you were working on earlier. You find yourself thanking every deity you’ve ever heard of that Jones and Cruz are elsewhere because you mean to say _‘Peter, you really need to have words with your wife about appropriate lunch conversations’_ , but what comes out is,

“ I really wanna go down on you right now.”

Peter goes completely still, the pen resting tantalizingly at the center of his mouth, before he lets out a soft sigh and sets it on his desk.

“ You’ve spoken with Elizabeth.” It’s not a question, and you can only nod and laugh a little, breathlessly, before sinking down into the chair in front of his desk.

“You’ve really got to talk with her about what constitutes appropriate lunch conversations.” Peter’s grin is wry and he shakes his head before looking up at you over the rims of his glasses,

“Haven’t been able to censor her for ten years. What makes you think I could, even if I wanted to?”

“Well could you maybe ask her not to drop something like that on me in public.”

“She throw you off your game?”

“She asked me to give you a kiss from her.” You say, running your hands through your hair. Peter chuckles softly, turning his head to look out over the bullpen.

“That sounds like El.” He says. He turns his head and looks you right in the eyes. “Wanna go get lunch?”

“Peter, I just got back from –”

“Neal, I haven’t eaten yet. Do you want to go get lunch?” Your mouth goes suddenly dry from the look Peter’s giving you. It looks just like the one he gave Ruiz a few days ago, only this fire burns hot, and you kind of want to know what would happen if you let it burn you. You’ve always been far too curious for your own good.

“Lunch sounds good.”

~*~*~*~*~

You’ve been to the Burke household plenty of times, both invited and under duress, but you’ve never been escorted through the front door with Peter’s hand resting warm and possessive at the small of your back. You know this is why you’re there, but you’re still surprised when Peter immediately turns around and kisses you. You freeze for a second, completely at a loss for what to do, but then you think, ' _Oh, kissing. I know how this goes.'_ So you open your mouth, and then it’s just warmth and smooth strokes of Peter’s tongue against your own, and it’s soft and strong and so incredibly hot you let out a quiet whimper, arching up against his body. He crowds you up against the door so you’re hip to hip, reaches up and grips your jaw to hold you in place, works a thigh between your legs with perfect pressure, and you’re gone. You don’t even register the soft touch to your shoulder, but you do take notice when Peter pulls away.

“Peter”, you whine, leaning forward to pull him back into another kiss, but then he steps to the side and Elizabeth has your tie wrapped up in her fist and pulls you down for a kiss of her own. You’re too dazed to even wonder where she came from, but she’s just as forceful and demanding as Peter in her way, and you’ve got her wrapped up in your arms. She’s soft and warm and still tastes like tarragon, citrus, and red wine from the coq au vin you’d split for lunch, earlier. You’d be worried about Peter’s reaction to all of this, but he’s pressed up against your back and your fingers are tangled together in Elizabeth’s hair. His pulls aside your collar, latches his teeth to the tendon he finds there, grinds his erection against your ass and you’re lightheaded from how fast the blood rushes in your veins to your cock.

 _'This can’t be real.'_

“Oh, it’s very real.” Peter murmurs, letting go of your neck with a soft ‘pop’ and soothing away the small hurt with a swipe of his tongue. Elizabeth steps away at the same time as Peter, and you barely lock your knees in time, opening your eyes to see the two of them standing next to each other, eyes hungry and focused entirely on you.

 _'I really, really want to go down on you right now.'_

“That is why we’re out having a second lunch.” Peter says with a grin, and you have three seconds to consider you’ve been speaking aloud without realizing it, and then _you’re_ pushing _Peter_ against the wall in their entrance way and sliding to your knees. You rub your face against his groin, smiling a bit at the soft intake of breath, but before you can do anything else, Elizabeth is at your back and reaching around to undo Peter’s fly and pull out his cock.

“Fucking Christ,” you whisper, licking up the underside and letting the broad, mushroom head rest at the center of your lips. You think briefly of Peter in the office, pen innocently suggestive, and then suck him in, breathing through your nose until you can’t breathe anymore, swallowing around the head and reveling in the bitter, musky taste of pre-come and sweat. Peter’s hand fists in your hair, before letting go to grip the back of your skull.

Peter isn’t long, but he is wide and you’re out of practice, so it takes a few strokes before you figure out the angle that lets you screw your mouth down on him until your nose is pressed to the root of his dick, and you can’t smile with your mouth so full, but you would if you could at the animal grunt that draws from Peter’s throat. His hips keep on making little aborted hitches, like he wants to thrust but is holding himself back. You groan deep in your chest, thinking _'Yes, yes fuck my mouth, yes,'_ but Peter pulls out and slides down the wall to pull you into his lap, licking his way into your mouth and sucking on your tongue the same way you were sucking on his cock moments before.

“Can we fuck you?” Elizabeth asks, appearing as if from nowhere, pressing up against your back and reaching around to undo the buttons of your shirt. You’re rocking now, trying to thrust your still covered cock against Peter’s stomach and unable to find the angle, so you just moan, loud and desperate and hope they take that as consent. You all seem to be on the same page, because Peter flips you over onto your knees, and then he’s working your pants over your hips while Elizabeth pushes your shirt off your shoulders, only to twist it at your wrists, efficiently securing your arms behind your back. You absently consider how difficult it would be to escape, but then Peter’s working two slick fingers into your ass and you’re gone on the stretch and the pressure and the ache. You don’t even wonder where Peter got the lube as he pulls his fingers out, slicks them up again, and then works in three. You’ve barely got air in your lungs to make the needy, embarrassing moans rattling out your throat, and you’re thrusting back on Peter’s fingers, watching captivated as Elizabeth slips her hand underneath her skirt and twists her hips. Then Peter’s pulling you back, guiding you onto his cock. The pressure is incredible, you screw your eyes closed it’s so intense, and then Peter pushes past the first ring of muscle. You scream, the pain and pleasure are a mindfuck so you don’t know if you want to pull away or grind down, but Peter doesn’t give you a choice. He keeps on slowly pushing forward, stretching filling, and the pain is slowly giving way to the pleasure. Then Peter wraps his arms around your torso, pulling you up so you’re sitting in his lap and you just slide all the way down, eyes rolling and breath catching in your throat as his cock presses directly against your prostate.

“Peter…” you whisper.

“Hush. It’s okay. Open your eyes.” He says, sucking the lobe of your ear into his mouth and rolling it with his teeth.

“Wha...” You can barely open your eyes, but you’re glad you can because Elizabeth is kneeling in front of you, naked and beautiful, and she gives you a perfectly innocent smile before expertly rolling a condom over your cock, throwing her leg over your thighs and sinking down in one smooth, quick slide. Whatever cognizance you had is gone, wiped out as Peter and El rock, trusting they’ll find the rhythm, trusting they won’t let you fall. Your arms are still tangled up in your shirt, so all you can do is lean forward and let your head rest on Elizabeth’s shoulder, open mouth pressed against her neck, smothering your broken moans. Peter has one arm still wrapped around your chest, the other gripping your hip as he presses and grinds up into you. You’re not going to last long, there’s no way you can last, not with Peter hitting your prostate on every thrust and Elizabeth’s hot, wet heat gripping your cock.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this, you should see yourself.” Peter says, voice ragged but still together. Elizabeth rubs her face against the top of your head, kisses your brow, nudges you up to steal a kiss.

“He’s right. You’re gorgeous, fuck, just perfect, never letting you go…” she trails off, closing her eyes and rocking with real intent, done teasing herself and you and going for it, and that’s it, you’re off. Fire burns down through your cock, and then spreads back up through your groin and thighs, pleasure shaking you apart as you jerk and cry, all strength leaving your body, only Peter and Elizabeth keeping you upright. Then Peter’s pushing you down, Elizabeth shifting and wrapping her legs around your waist as she goes to her back, and Peter’s pounding into you with fast, punishing thrusts, and Elizabeth is shouting as she comes, grinding her clit up against you, pulling away when it gets to be too much, pulling your head into her lap as Peter continues to fuck.

You pass out, finally, as Peter presses in and grinds, groaning loudly into your ear,

 _'Mine.'_

~*~*~*~*~

“Hey, how’re you feeling?”

You blink awake, disoriented and feeling like you’ve been hit by and backed over with a semi, but then you focus on Elizabeth, noticing the smeared makeup and the mussed hair, noticing the _naked in bed with you_ , and then finally noticing the absence of Peter.

“I’m good.” You say, and holy shit is that your voice? You sound like a pack a day smoker, your voice is so raw, but Elizabeth seems to like it because she leans forward and captures your mouth in a kiss, and it’s sweet and hot, and if you weren’t so completely wrung out, you’d roll her over and fuck her all over again.

“What time…?”

“It’s a little after two. Peter went back to the office. He’ telling everyone that lunch didn’t agree with you and you’re taking the rest of the day off.”

“Why?”

“Because he never thought it would come to this. He’s hoped, sure, but he never let himself consider you’d ever want him the way he wants you, and that you don’t seem all that adverse to playing with me as well is messing with his worldview just as much as everything else. He needs space.”

“Um.” Is all you can manage. You think you should be embarrassed; you’re usually much smoother than this. “He’s jealous? Is he mad at me for –”

“No, no, no. He’s not jealous. Or rather, not of you. He’s kind of pissed that I get to spend all day in bed with you, but he’ll get over it. But that alpha male, touch-what’s-mine-and-I’ll-kill-you, thing? He’s really feeling it, and he’s worried he’ll fuck you in the middle of the office the first time someone looks at you wrong.”

“Elizabeth!”

“He didn’t say as much, but I know these things.”

“God. I…” You trail off, shaking your head, trying to think. You feel kind of like you just pulled off the most implausible, impossible heist, like you just walked out the front door of the Louvre with the Mona Lisa, and you’re not sure what to do with that. You turn on your side and look at Elizabeth, wonder how the hell this happened and why you’re not freaking out more, why you’re not freaking out at all. Then Elizabeth slides closer, throws her leg over your hips and you pull her on top of you, letting her warm, heavy weight press you into the mattress, and you grin.

 _If my social circle is limited to these two for a while, I think I can live with it._

 

 _  
_~fin~_   
_


End file.
